He Loves Me Not
by SWWoman
Summary: Team Machine has a new case. Why would a former model prisoner from California break her parole and come all the way to New York? Is she there for revenge, or something else? Is she a perpetrator or a victim? A case fiction with Careese! Rating will go up with smut in a later chapter.
1. Chapter 1

**Welcome to the my latest fic. This is a case fic, written more like an episode of the show from season 1 or 2, and, of course, it's Careese. It's not a Wolf fic, but don't worry, I have another story about the Wolves that is close to being done.**

 **Many thanks to wolfmusic218 for the beta! You rock!**

 **Normally I would post my chapter 3 times a week on Mon, Wed and Fri, but I've rather busy lately so I'll be posting twice a week on Tuesdays and Fridays.**

 **I should also say that I don't own Person of Interest, or any of the characters from the show. I don't make any money from this, I play in this sandbox for fun only.**

* * *

 **The New Number**

"Come on Taylor, MOVE! You're going to be late! You going to make _me_ late!" Joss Carter yelled down the hall towards Taylor's room. "That boy slept through his alarm again!" She groused.

A showered, shaved, and dressed John Reese leaned against the kitchen counter sipping his first cup of coffee. "Teenaged boys can sleep through anything," he remarked idly.

"Tell me about. Here it is seven a.m. and I already have a headache trying to get that kid moving." She rubbed her temples.

John handed her a commuter mug full of hot coffee. "You go ahead. I'll take care of this."

Joss looked up at him in surprise. "Won't you be late?"

John shrugged. "The nice thing about being a vigilante is that there's no clock to punch. Finch will understand."

Joss stood on her tiptoes and planted a kiss on his lips. "Thanks. Love you."

John returned her kiss. "Love you, too. Stay safe."

As soon as Joss was out the door, John walked down the hall to Taylor's room. Standing in the doorway, he saw that Taylor was still cocooned in a giant lump of blankets in the middle of the bed; all of his mother's yelling hadn't moved him a bit. With a smile, John took a deep breath and launched into a perfect imitation of his boot camp drill sergeant.

"ALRIGHT MAGGOTS!" His normally soft voice boomed. "It's time to get your lazy butts out of bed! You have fifteen minutes to shower and shine before the five mile run!"

Taylor's response was immediate; he tumbled out of bed onto the floor in a tangle of blankets and boy. His head popped up from the tangle, his eyes wide, and his afro flat on one side from his pillow.

"Oh good, you're up," John smirked, his voice returning to its normally quiet tone. "If you hurry and get dressed we'll still have time to stop at the doughnut shop." Then he turned and walked down the hallway, grinning as he heard Taylor scrambling to get ready. Lifting his eyes to heaven, he whispered, "Thanks Sergeant Griffin!"

* * *

An hour later, having deposited Taylor at school with an apple fritter and a cup of coffee, John Reese strolled into the library carrying his usual box of doughnuts and a drink carrier with two coffees and one Sencha green tea. As usual, his partner in mayhem, Sameen Shaw, pounced on the box like a famine survivor, even though John was pretty sure she'd eaten breakfast already that morning. Finch greeted him and politely thanked him for the tea. Bear greeted him with a cheerful yip and a furiously wagging tail.

John noticed that Finch had already taped a picture of a middle-aged black woman to the wall of glass where he posted their numbers. John stepped in to take a closer and realized that it was a mug shot. "Who's the perp?"

Finch raised an eyebrow. "We don't know if she is victim or perpetrator yet, Mr. Reese. This is Sh'Linda Moore, our new number."

"That's a mug shot Finch, what was she accused of?"

Finch stepped over to his computer and pulled up more information. "Killing her husband, Roger Jimenez. Ms. Moore grew up on the mean streets of Watts but apparently had extraordinary talent and drive. Despite her impoverished beginnings, she won a full academic scholarship to USC. Go Trojans."

Finch glanced up to see how his little joke was received only to find that Shaw was stone faced. He sighed.

Shaw shrugged. "When you say Trojans I think condoms, Finch."

Finch blinked while Reese rolled his eyes. "TMI, Ms. Shaw," Finch sighed. He turned to his computer and tapped a few keys bringing up a wedding announcement featuring Sh'Linda with a handsome Hispanic man of medium height. "While at USC she changed her name to Linda, supposedly to fit in better with her somewhat conservative business school classmates. She also met and married Mr. Jimenez. They graduated with their degrees in accounting, got their CPAs, and started a small accounting firm in San Diego, Mr. Jimenez's home town. They were wildly successful and their firm grew steadily. At their peak they had over one hundred employees."

"That's impressive," Shaw said as she chomped down on her second doughnut.

"Yes it is," Finch agreed. "Do you remember Kling Associates, the large accounting firm that failed nearly fifteen years ago?"

John shook his head no. "I was out of the country."

Shaw nodded. "I remember it; they were huge. But they got caught cheating on audits of publicly traded companies and they went down in flames. Their CEO is in prison and thousands of people lost their jobs."

Finch nodded. "Jimenez & Moore were able to pick up several of Kling's large clients in the San Diego area and became a multi-million dollar company overnight. In an ironic twist, it turned out to be the worst thing that could have happened to them"

"How so?" John asked.

"Apparently, they took on more work than they could handle and they found themselves under investigation for falsifying several important audits and tax records. It seems they simply could not keep up the huge amount of work they took on and lied about conducting several crucial audits. From what I have read, it took it's toll on the marriage. During Ms. Moore's murder trial her sister Shanika testified that she thought that Mr. Jimenez was having an affair."

"So she killed him." Shaw noisily bit into another doughnut, her third. John rolled his eyes, he was never able to understand how Shaw could be such a good operative when she was so noisy doing the most mundane things. How the heck did one make so much noise chewing a _doughnut_?

Finch ignored the interruption and continued with his story. "According to trial testimony, in an effort to rekindle their marriage, Ms. Moore and her husband rented a sailboat and sailed to Catalina Island. They anchored off the coast, had a romantic dinner at one of the high end restaurants on the island, and returned to the boat. Ms. Moore claimed to have blacked out after drinking several glasses of wine. When she woke up, she and the boat were covered in blood and Mr. Jimenez was missing. His body was never found despite an extensive search by the Coast Guard."

"She blacked out? A likely story," Shaw snorted with her mouth full of doughnut.

John looked at Sh'Linda's picture thoughtfully. "Was she ever tested for drugs in her system? Rohypnol, GHB, anything that would make her blackout?"

Sameen rolled her eyes and took another noisy bite. "You don't believe that B.S. story, do you?" She chewed with her mouth open, much to Finch's disgust.

John didn't even glance at his partner in chaos, he merely continued to look at Sh'Linda's picture. "She grew up on the streets of Watts and she had a degree from a prestigious university in a difficult major. She had both street smarts and book smarts, that's a rare combination. If she was going to kill her husband, she would have been a lot smarter about it."

Finch nodded his head. "I agree with Mr. Reese. Looking through the police files, the investigation immediately focused on Ms. Moore and never looked into any other possibilities for Mr. Jimenez's disappearance. She may well be innocent - and the victim."

Shaw rolled her eyes again. "Whatever." She wiped her mouth with her sleeve. "Why isn't she in prison now?"

"She took a plea deal, pleading guilty to manslaughter to avoid a murder charge," Finch explained. "She was paroled four months ago. According to prison records, she was a model prisoner and got the maximum time off for good behavior. She was diligent about making her appointments with her parole officer, until about a month ago when she vanished."

"We'll need to get eyes on her. Do you know where she is?" John asked.

Finch tapped his keyboard. "She's staying in a house on Bedford Street in the Bronx. The lease was signed with the name Sh'Linda with a fake last name, so she appears to be back to using her birth name." A map popped up and Shaw and Reese both looked over his shoulder.

"That's a rough neighborhood," Shaw grumbled.

"We can't get all our numbers from the Upper East Side," John smirked at his partner. "She's from Watts, she can handle herself."

"I'm not worried about _her_ ," Shaw snapped irritably.

"I'll protect you, don't worry." John's blue eyes were twinkling.

Shaw responded by angrily stomping out of the room.

Finch looked over at John. "Did you _have_ to do that?"

John smirked at his employer. "She made fun of my arsenal, so yes." Finch glared at him but John kept his smirk in place. "I'll let her drive, that'll cheer her up.

"Call Joss. Ask her to talk to Sh'Linda's warden and her parole officer." And then John followed his partner out of the room.

* * *

Shaw and Reese found Sh'Linda's address easily enough. It was a tiny, dilapidated house in a neighborhood made up of tiny, dilapidated houses. Just about every house on the block had anti-theft bars on the windows and the ones that didn't had at least one window that was boarded up. A disturbing number of homes had both. Many of the houses were surrounded by cyclone fencing with locked gates. It was the kind of neighborhood that made Reese glad he had the Glock stuck in his waistband nestled against the small of his back.

The house was located on a side street only a few blocks from a busy thoroughfare. No one paid them any mind as they parked their non-descript Toyota a couple of doors down from Sh'Linda's rental.

They didn't have long to wait before Sh'Linda opened her door and stepped outside wearing a light jacket and carrying a purse. She paused to lock the door and then strode with purposeful strides down the street. Reese and Shaw got out of the car and followed discreetly, but Sh'Linda wasn't looking for anyone following her.

Sh'Linda seemed to be in a hurry as she walked down the street. Even with his long legs, Reese was hard pressed to keep up with her and the much shorter Shaw was practically galloping.

They caught up to her as she waited for the light to cross the street several blocks later. Sh'Linda shifted her weight from side to side impatiently as she waited for the light to change. A small crowd was gathered on the corner waiting for the light with her, but she took no notice of anyone; her attention was fully focused on the light as if she was willing it to change. Reese took advantage of her inattention to blue jack her phone.

Finally the light changed and she stepped off the curb. John heard the screech of tires and was in motion even before he saw the car. Sh'Linda froze in the middle of the street staring at the large late 80s Buick bearing down on her. John pushed her safely out of the way and leapt in the air, rolling on his shoulder over the hood of the car and off to one side, covering his head with his arms. He crashed to the asphalt by the driver's side door of the car as it rushed on past him. The driver never applied the brakes.

John took a moment to catch his breath as he lay on the ground taking inventory of all his extremities. To his relief, everything was still attached and seemed to be in working order. Aside from having the breath knocked out him when he hit the ground and some nasty bruises, he appeared to be fine.

A crowd was gathering around him as he sat up. "Did you see that?" one woman wearing a garish fur coat screeched. "The car didn't even slow down!"

Shaw squatted down next to him. "You OK?"

John glared at her. "You should have stayed with Sh'Linda."

"Sorry I was concerned for you," Shaw grumbled. "She's gone already. She didn't even stop to check to see if you were alright after you pushed her out of the way." Shaw helped him to his feet with a grunt. "You need to lose weight, Joss is feeding you too good. Lay off the lasagna."

"You would know it's impossible to stay away from Joss's lasagna if you'd had it." John took a few tentative steps and nodded with satisfaction that everything was working as expected. "I'll return to HQ in case Finch has a lead for us. He can probably track Sh'Linda's phone. You should check out her house for clues."

Shaw grunted her approval. "I'll catch up to you when I finish up at the house." She reached up and tapped her earpiece. "Hey Finch, we lost Sh'Linda and we need to you start looking for a car with a Reese-shaped dent on the hood."


	2. Chapter 2

**Fire**

By the time Reese returned to the library, Joss and Fusco were there waiting for him. From the look on Joss's face, John knew that had heard about his near-miss with the car. Wordlessly she wrapped her arms around him and laid her cheek against his chest. John reciprocated by hugging her tight.

The one regret John had in his life of working the numbers was the toll it took on the one woman who was bold enough to love him as he was. He had always craved a family, but with his drive to protect those who could not protect themselves, he had long ago given up hope of ever having one for himself. Jessica had demanded he change, give up his fight. He'd tried, God knows he'd tried, but ultimately he couldn't do it. Zoe had been a welcome distraction, but their relationship was purely sexual with all the emotional depth of parking lot puddle. It had been satisfying for a brief while but he had yearned for something more, someone who loved him, who he could love in return. Then he became involved with Joss and he discovered that there was indeed someone for everyone.

He regarded Joss as a miracle. She not only accepted his need to protect others, she shared it. She understood him on a level no one ever had. He knew he was a hard man to love so he did his best every day to show her just how grateful he was that she was in his life. He never understood just why Joss thought he was worthy of her love, but he would hold tight to her as long as she would have him.

"I'm fine," he whispered gently. Joss lifted her head and looked him in the eyes. He gave her a tiny smile and nod. Satisfied that he was indeed fine, she nodded and stepped back.

"Did you find the car?" John asked as he gently ran his hand up and down Joss's back.

Fusco grunted. "Yeah, NYPD located it abandoned not too far from where it tried to turn your number into a hood ornament. It'd been reported stolen only a few hours before someone tried to squash you. Whoever stole it wasn't subtle, the window was smashed and a screwdriver had been stuck in the ignition. I dispatched a CSI, we'll see if there are any prints."

Reese growled in frustration. "We're still no closer to figuring out who wanted to kill Sh'Linda." He turned to Joss. "Did you have any luck with the prison warden or the parole officer?"

Joss shook her head. "Not really. According to the warden, Sh'Linda was a model prisoner. She kept her nose clean. She found God. She tutored other inmates and helped several of them get their GEDs. As far as the warden knew, she didn't have any enemies and was actually quite popular with the other inmates.

"The parole officer was no better, she thought Sh'Linda was making great progress. She had a job in a hair salon greeting customers, keeping the appointment book, that kind of thing. She thought Sh'Linda was adjusting perfectly well to being on the outside."

"So what makes a former model prisoner violate parole and high tail it to a city she'd never visited before?" Fusco growled. "I'm telling you, she's after someone. This is personal."

Joss looked thoughtful. "My guess is that she is after her boy. The warden did say that her sister stopped bringing her son to visit after only a few months. Sh'Linda tried to get in touch with her, but she and the kid had vanished. I know that if I had been separated from Taylor for so many years I would move heaven and earth to find him again."

"Finch, any idea where Sh'Linda's child is?" Reese asked.

Finch shook his head. "Now that you mention it, I never came across any evidence of the boy's current whereabouts while researching Ms. Moore. That is odd."

Reese looked grim. "Find that kid, Finch. I'll bet my Barrett that Fusco and Joss are right - he's the key."

* * *

Reese was able to re-establish contact with Sh'Linda quite easily. Finch traced her phone and found her loitering outside a small office building in Brooklyn. Shaw and Reese reached the building around the same time and found Sh'Linda lurking in the shadows in an alley across the street from the building's front door.

"Did you find anything at Sh'Linda's?" Reese asked Shaw as she joined him on the roof of the building next door to the one that held their number's interest.

"Looks like she did some traveling before she landed in New York. I found receipts and train tickets from Seattle and Chicago. Joss and Lionel were right, she was tracking someone. And look at this!" She held her phone out to him.

Reese took and looked at the photo on the screen. It showed a list of addresses with all of them except one scratched out. The remaining address was the one next door, the one that Sh'Linda was currently staring at like it held all the answers she had been seeking in her cross country odyssey. Reese had a feeling it did, he just hoped she would survive finding those answers.

"Finch, what's in that building?" Reese asked.

John listened the all too familiar sounds of Finch's keyboard while he looked up the address. "There appears to be a few small businesses at that address. A property management firm, an interior design firm, and … and an accounting firm."

"Ruh Roh," Shaw said in her best Scooby Doo voice.

Before Reese could reply, a thin man of Hispanic descent exited the building and both Reese and Shaw did a double take once they got a good look at him.

"Is that who I think it is?" Shaw asked.

"Yes it is. Finch, did Roger Jimenez have a twin brother?"

"No, Mr. Reese. The only sibling Mr. Jimenez had was a younger sister who died with their father in an auto accident caused by a drunk driver when he was quite young. Why do you ask?"

"Because Jimenez's alive and here in New York. Sh'Linda is about to confront him."

With the touch of a few keys, Finch tapped into Sh'Linda's phone and he, Reese, and Shaw were able to overhear the conversation.

"Linda! What are you doing here?" Rodger sounded surprised but calm.

Sh'Linda huffed angrily. "It's Sh'Linda now asshole and you know what I'm here for!"

"There's no need for that kind of language…" Roger's tone was so condescending that Reese barely restrained himself for marching down to the street and decking him.

"There was no need to frame me for murder either, but you didn't let that stop you," Sh'Linda snarled.

"Baby, my back was to the wall…"

Sh'Linda jabbed her finger into her husband's chest. "I don't give a shit about your problems you fucking weasel. I want my boy."

Reese could see the desperate look on Jimenez's face. Passer-bys were starting to stare and if the confrontation escalated any further, the police could be called which was the last thing a dead guy needed. Reese knew that from experience.

"H…h…h…he's not here, he's away at school," Jimenez stammered.

"Well then, you had better get him here or I'm calling the cops," Sh'Linda sneered.

A hateful smirk appeared on Roger Jimenez's face. "You know, it's unusual for a felon to get permission to travel out of state, so I'm guessing your presence in New York isn't authorized. If you call the cops, you go back to jail for parole violations."

Sh'Linda merely laughed. "Look at you trying to be all tough n' shit. Ever been in the big house, Roger? You wanna know something? Pretty boy like you'll be _really_ popular in the joint. I've been in prison, I know I can survive. A mama's boy like you? Not so much."

Jimenez held up his hands in surrender. "OK, OK. I can't get Henry today though. Come back this Saturday, say around dinner time? We could have dinner and…talk."

Sh'Linda gave Jimenez a shove. "All right, I'll come back, but if my boy isn't here, or you punk out on me, I'm calling the cops on your lying ass."

Roger watched as Sh'Linda stalked off down the street then he raised his hand and flipped her off behind her back.

"Really?" Shaw said as she watched his childish gesture.

John snorted.

"Now I hope she's going to kill to him…so I can help," Shaw said darkly.

John growled, "Stay on Roger, I'll stick with Sh'Linda."

"Can I shoot him?" Shaw asked hopefully.

John smirked. "I'm not stopping you, but you better have a good explanation for Joss if you add to her workload."

"Spoil sport," Shaw groused as John turned and hurried after their number.

* * *

Late that night, John yawned and stretched in the driver's seat of his compact car. He checked his watch, there were still several hours to go until dawn. This was hardest part of the job for him - folding his lanky body into cramped cars for several hours at a time. In order to be inconspicuous, John had chosen one of the smaller cars in Finch's fleet, a battered looking, ten year old Corolla that actually ran beautifully, even if it did look like hell. It fit in the run-down neighborhood perfectly; no one would give it a second glance, but it left little room for the 6'2" operative to stretch and move.

It had been a boring night. Sh'Linda had returned to her house after her confrontation with her ex and had not set foot outside since. John had observed her making dinner and pouring herself a glass of iced tea from a pitcher in the fridge. She had then settled down in front of the TV to eat. She did not appear to have any inclination to do anything else that night.

John's phone buzzed and he glanced at the caller ID. With a grin he tapped his earpiece. "What's up Tay?" He asked without taking his eyes off the house.

"John, how do you ask a girl out?" Taylor said without preamble.

John blinked rapidly; he was not expecting that. "Um, maybe you should ask your mom. She is a girl after all."

Taylor sighed a long suffering sigh. "I don't want another lecture about how a girl should be a smart and pretty but mostly smart."

"Is she?"

John could hear Taylor rolling his eyes over the phone. "Yeah, she is. Help a guy out here, John. How did you ask mom out the first time?"

"I don't think that's a good example, Tay…"

"John, please!" the teen whined.

John sighed. "I tied up a wife beater and hung him upside down from the light fixture in his entry way."

There was a pause. "Oh…um…yeah, don't get me wrong, that was dope, but I don't think that approach will work for me."

John smirked. "Is she a cop?"

"No."

"Then it won't work."

"So, how do you ask out girls who aren't cops?"

John couldn't resist. "I'm too scared of your mom to do that."

"JOHN!"

John decided it was time to be serious. "Tay, you don't have to do a big fancy proposal, you just simply say, 'Would you like to go get some coffee?' Just be direct and sincere."

"That's it? That seems so…whack. I was hoping for something smoother." Taylor sounded grouchy

"Tay, girls don't want a player, they want someone who likes them and wants to spend time with them. Just be yourself."

"What if she doesn't like me, though?" Taylor asked in a small voice

"Son, if I could give you one single piece of advice, it would to find woman who likes you for YOU. My biggest mistakes in relationships have been because I tried to be something I wasn't," John said softly, thinking of his brief time with Jessica. "I'm the happiest I've ever been with your mom because she accepts me for who I am."

Despite the fact that there was quiet on the other end of the line for several minutes, John could hear the wheels turning in the head of the teen. "Thanks, John," Taylor said at last.

"Let me know how goes," John said.

"Sure, gotta go. Mom will flip if she finds I'm still up."

John smiled. "Night, T."

He cut the call and leaned back in his seat. His relationship with Taylor was a pleasant surprise. When he and Joss had first decided to take their relationship to the next level, he had been nervous about how the teen would react to his presence in their lives, but as Taylor had said, "You saved my life, John. You saved my mom's life." It certainly got them off to a good start. John had never thought of himself as Father Figure material, but life had a funny way of doing things sometimes and he found himself slipping in the role quite easily.

His reverie was broken when an orange glow in the window of Sh'Linda's house drew his attention and his eyes widened in horror as he realized what that orange glow meant. He threw open the door of the Corolla and sprinted down the street. "Finch! Call the fire department, Sh'Linda's house is on fire!"

John was up the few steps to the front porch of the house with one graceful bound. He pounded on the door, but there was no response. Deciding that now was not the time to be subtle, he drew his gun and shot out the lock. Kicking in the door he was confronted by a house filled with thick gray smoke; he could see that the back of the house where the kitchen was located was almost fully engulfed. To his horror, he saw that the flames were already licking at the stairs, cutting off access to the bedrooms upstairs.

He heard a moan off to his left and to his relief he found Sh'Linda asleep on the living room couch, the remains of her dinner on the coffee table in front of her. He scooped her up and swiftly carried her out of the burning house. He pulled open the passenger door of the Corolla and placed her carefully the seat. Sh'Linda let out another moan and briefly opened her eyes before she closed them again, but it was enough for Reese to see that her eyes were glassy and he knew she had been drugged.

John slammed the car door and ran around to the driver's side. "Finch, Sh'Linda's been drugged. The fire was deliberate. Call Dr. Enright and have her meet us at the safe house on East 43rd."

* * *

 **Note to ravenhusker: Not _Reasonable Doubt_ , this fic was somewhat inspired by the movie _Double Jeopardy_ starring Ashley Judd and Tommy Lee Jones. That's not a spoiler, this fic turned out quite differently than the movie. Hey, if Nolan can do a homage so can I!**


	3. Chapter 3

**Maddy and Marty**

John carried Sh'Linda into the safe house filled with medical equipment that the team often used as an impromptu clinic. He laid her down on the hospital bed in the largest bedroom and slipped an oxygen mask over her face. He checked her pulse and, to his relief, found it was steady and strong.

The door opened and John turned to see a bleary-eyed Dr. Madeline Enright ***** and her much more cheerful wife, Amy, enter. "Can't you save someone at a decent hour?" Maddy grumbled.

Amy flashed John a grin. "Someone hasn't had her coffee yet. How are you, John?"

John answered Amy's smile with his own. "Could be better. Someone tried to flambé my friend here."

Maddy blinked a couple of times and then went into what Amy called "Doctor Mode" as she began examining the patient. "Smoke inhalation? Burns?' she asked in her clipped professional tone of voice.

"Smoke inhalation, yes. Burns, no," John replied. "But probably drugged."

Maddy lifted one of Sh'Linda's eyelids, shone a light into the eye and nodded. "Sure looks like it." She opened a cabinet and removed the supplies she needed to draw a couple of vials of blood. With quick, efficient, movements born out of years of practice, the good doctor had two vials of blood drawn in record time while Amy and John watched quietly.

"Amy, can you take these over to the hospital and flirt that cute tech in the lab into doing a quick tox screen on these? Tell her to look for sedatives, particularly commonly prescribed ones."

"I'll flirt up a storm," Amy promised. She took the vials from Maddy, gave her wife a peck on the lips, and with a cheerful wave to John, left.

"Anything I can do?" John asked softly.

"Coffee, lots of coffee," Maddy growled as she listened to Sh'Linda's chest.

* * *

A couple hours, and a couple of cups of coffee later, Amy called from the lab to let Maddy know that Sh'Linda had indeed been drugged with prescription sleeping medication.

"Someone wanted t be sure she slept through the fire," Maddy said after she hung up. "The amount in her blood stream is technically a slight overdose, but or someone as healthy as Sh'Linda, all that means is that she will sleep longer and deeper. There's nothing to do except wait for her to sleep it off."

John called a cab and sent Maddy home with his thanks. He then called Joss to fill her in on the night's events and to ask her to use her contacts in the fire department arson investigation unit to find out what she could about the fire. He then stretched out on the couch in the living room to catch some shut eye and wait for Joss to get back to him.

* * *

Joss walked carefully up the steps of the house where Sh'Linda was nearly barbecued. The door was hanging open and with a small smile she saw the lock had been shot out, recognizing it as John's work. "Marty, you there?" she called out. This was a crime scene and she didn't want to intrude without an invitation from the arson investigator.

A short, pudgy, man in late middle age toddled out from the back of the house. He took one look at Joss and broke into a wide grin. "Well, well, well, look who's here! Detective, it's good to see you again. Did you draw this case? I understood the woman who lived here was rescued alive, so what brings homicide here?"

Joss grinned at Marty Feldberg, the best arson investigator in New York City. Marty was short, barely taller than Joss, with a fringe of close-cropped gray hair around his mostly bald head. His distinctive, thick New York accent made him sound like a walking Billy Crystal joke, but he was a sly man who used the fact that he was often underestimated to his advantage. His record in solving arson cases was unparalleled.

Joss and Marty had worked several cases together over the years, starting when she was a wet-behind-the-ears rookie assigned to guard the crime scene while Marty worked his magic. Joss had never forgotten the kindness Marty had shown her that night as he had patiently walked her through the intricacies of an arson investigation. He showed her how to pinpoint the fire's point of origin, the signs that told him an accelerant was used, and how the electrical system had been tampered with to produce the spark that had started the fire. Joss had learned more in that single shift than she had learned in weeks spent at the academy

Marty had been quick to recognize Joss's keen intelligence and he had delighted in showing the eager rookie the ropes. Joss had learned fast, asking intelligent questions and listening carefully to the answers. A friendship had been born that night and Marty made sure that Joss was there to help him bust the arsonist several weeks later. Since then, they had both maneuvered to work with the other whenever they could. Marty had been the first person to call Joss and congratulate her when she had made detective.

Because of their long history together, Joss knew better than to lie to Marty; the shrewd investigator would call her out quicker than you could say, "Fire!" So she told him the truth. "Following up on a case for a friend. The vic is a parolee with a long history of good behavior who left California without permission and no one knows why."

Marty nodded. "Whatever it is, someone wants to kill her for it. This was definitely arson." He tossed her a pair of gloves. "Follow me."

Joss pulled on the gloves and followed Marty to what was left of the kitchen where they picked their way carefully through the debris until they reached the sink. Joss knew enough from Marty's numerous lessons over the years to know this was where the fire had originated. A photographer was kneeling in the ash taking pictures of the cabinet area under the sink.

"You done yet?" Marty asked the photographer.

The photographer straightened up and stepped back. "Yup, you can start bagging evidence now."

Marty nodded and knelt down in front of the cabinet. He reached in, carefully scooped something up in his hand, then stood up and showed it Joss. "What do you see?"

Joss looked at it for a second. To the untrained eye it looked like a blob of ash and melted metal, but Marty had been an excellent teacher. "Electronic timer for an arson device made with a cheap watch. Instructions readily available on the internet. Probably installed several hours before the fire actually started," she said.

"Good girl," Marty grinned. Joss held out a plastic evidence bag to Marty who carefully placed the remains of the timer in the bag and sealed it. Then Marty jerked his thumb at the sink. "If you look under the sink you'll see that the timer was used with a crude incendiary device, instructions also readily available on the internet."

Joss carefully squatted to look under the sink and confirm what Marty had just told her. "I take it this was an amateur job, then?" Joss asked as she carefully examined the charred remains of the device.

Marty snorted. "Yeah, very amateur. Google 'How to build an incendiary device' and this is the first site that pops up. They're so amateur, we may even get a print off the watch. I'll let you know."

"Thanks Marty." Joss stood and peeled off her gloves.

"How's the vic?" Marty asked. "I'm going to need to talk to her."

Joss nodded, she knew that Marty was going to say that. "She's recovering in a medical facility; I'll see if I can bring her into your office in a few days."

Marty looked at Joss shrewdly. "You think there's more than meets the eye to this case, don't you?"

"Yeah, I know there is. I'll keep you in the loop. Now I'll get out what little is left of your hair and let you finish up here."

"Thanks, girlie. I'll call you later. I'm looking forward to getting a good story out of this one."

Joss laughed, "I think you'll get one if you can be patient and trust me."

Marty gave her a toothy grin. "You know me, I'm the most patient man in New York. I know you won't disappoint me."

* * *

John was awakened a couple of hours after he fell asleep by a gentle kiss from his lover. He opened his eyes to see a smiling Joss kneeling next to the couch. With small smile he touched her cheek. "Hi."

Joss leaned into his touch, rubbing her cheek against this hand. "How's my Sleeping Vigilante?"

John sat up. "I'll be better once I have a cup of coffee and shave." John swung himself off the couch and they moved into the kitchen to get coffee and talk.

"The findings are, of course, very preliminary, but it was for sure arson," Joss said, as they sat down at the table. She filled him in on Marty's investigation and how Marty was certain the arsonist was an amateur who got all their information from the internet.

John nodded as he thoughtfully sipped his coffee. "The fits with the amateur car theft. Our number one suspect is off the list, Shaw had eyes on Roger Jimenez all night and the security cameras in his building show he was in his office all day yesterday. No time to try to run Sh'Linda over or to install the incendiary device."

Joss looked grim. "So, we have another player in the game. But who could it be?"

John shrugged. "I wish I knew."

Their conversation was interrupted by a low moan from the room where Sh'Linda was sleeping. They hurried into the bedroom to see her eyelids fluttering. John stepped to side of the bed just as Sh'Linda opened her eyes. She looked up at the handsome operative looking down at her and said in slurred speech, "Ammmm I in hhhhheaven?"

Joss nearly choked trying to keep from laughing while John looked down at the woman with a stunned expression on his face. He blinked rapidly in response and stumbled over his words as he tried to think of how to respond. "I…um…no. You're in New York."

"You lookkkk like an angelllll," Sh'Linda slurred, looking up at John, wide eyed. John shot Joss a confused look but Joss was too busy stifling her laughter to be of any help. "Um, I'm no angel," he tried to assure the woman in the bed.

She reached up and touched his unshaven cheek. "I thought angelssss sssssshaved," she said in a groggy voice.

"Um..I'll shave later…" John stumbled again. He gently removed her hand from his cheek, still confused as to what to do. Joss was still too helpless with suppressed laughter behind him to be of any help. "You're not dead."

To his shock, Sh'Linda burst into tears. "I can't be dead!" she wailed. "I haven't seen my boy yet!"

The mention of Sh'Linda's missing son was what Joss needed to bring herself under control. She stepped to the bedside and flashed her badge. "Sh'Linda Moore, I'm Detective Carter of the NYPD. I need to ask you a few questions."

John was never so relieved to step back and let Joss take control as he was in that moment. It worked. Sh'Linda blinked at Joss and her mind seemed to immediately clear up when she saw the police badge. She blinked and swallowed. Then a tear trickled down her cheek. "I was so close," she whispered.

Joss put away her badge. "Close to seeing your boy?' she asked kindly.

Sh'Linda nodded as another tear made its down her cheek.

"We're not here to send you back to California, at least not yet. We know you were framed for murder and your husband is alive."

Sh'Linda's eyes opened wide as she struggled to sit up. "Someone knows the truth!" she cried out as more tears made their way down her face. "Oh my God, it's been so long!"

* * *

 ***Dr Enright was the number from the episode Critical in season 2. I do love to revisit the old numbers, and I think the show was somewhat remiss in not calling on some of the people Reese and Finch helped when they had useful skills. I would think Team Machine would make frequent use of the doctors at the very least.**

 **Something I didn't realize until this weekend, this is my 40th story! I'm amazed! When I first started this I wasn't very good, but thanks to the wonderful, supportive Careese community I've gotten a lot better and had a lot of fun doing it. Thanks to everyone who has come along with me on this journey by reading and reviewing. I have to give a special shout-out to the Mi Amore ladies who keep me going and the ladies who were part of the first Careese group over on the forum who helped launch me on this crazy FF hobby.**


	4. Chapter 4

**This is a long chapter, but I didn't want to break up Sh'Linda's back story into two chapters. Enjoy!**

* * *

 **Sh'Linda's Story**

A few hours later, John kissed Joss on the forehead and left the safe house to work on the case against Roger. Sh'Linda was almost fully recovered from the night's ordeal. A slight cough that, according to Dr. Enright, would persist for a few days and then peter out, was the only lingering effect from the fire. They had agreed it was probably better if Joss was the one to question the number and get her side of the story.

Sh'Linda was understandably wary when Joss asked her to sit down so they could talk _. Over ten years of being called a murderer and a liar will do that to you_ , Joss thought to herself as she looked at the tense woman sitting on the edge of the couch across from her. Joss decided to let Sh'Linda lead the conversation for now. "First, do you have any questions for me?"

Sh'Linda blew out the breath she had been holding and flopped back against the couch cushions. "So, you and Blue Eyes?"

Joss blushed and gave her a small smile. "Yeah."

Sh'Linda shook her head. "Girl, look at you getting your swirl on. Hope it works out better for you than it did for me."

"Not a high bar," Joss said wryly.

Sh'Linda snorted at that. "No, as long he doesn't try to frame you for murder, you're ahead of me."

Sh'Linda closed her eyes and let her head drop back against the cushions. "We weren't always like this. Homicidal. We once loved each other. Couldn't keep our hands off each other. We worked hard, made lots of money. Girl, we were the American Dream. Our friends called us the Golden Couple.

"Rodger was a the son of a single mom from the barrio, I was a studious black chick from the 'hood. We had something to prove and, dammit, we _proved_ it.

"The firm started small, it was just us for a couple of years, but we worked like dogs. Then we got a few big contracts, hired some people, grew some more, hired some more people, and before we were thirty years old we were on the cover of _Young Business_."

"What happened?"

Sh'Linda grew pensive, "Henry was born premature. I didn't take it easy during the pregnancy. I wasn't going to be one of _those_ mothers who used her pregnancy as an excuse to slack off. I worked like a dog through the whole thing, then one day I started bleeding."

She closed her eyes and took a shaky breath. Joss laid a hand on her arm. "It wasn't your fault, you know."

Sh'Linda shook her head. "That's what the doctors all told me. But I never stopped wondering if maybe I had taken some time off, if I had taken it easy, maybe it wouldn't have happened."

"But Henry's okay."

Sh'Linda sighed. "He had a lot of medical problems for the first few years because he was a preemie. After we had Henry, and I took some time off to raise my baby. I left Roger in charge of the business while I did the whole Super Mom thing. We had plenty of money, a big house in the 'burbs. Having a kid with special needs showed me that it was time to slow down a bit and enjoy life."

"Roger didn't agree?" Joss asked quietly.

"Roger's _mother_ didn't agree." Sh'Linda shook her head. "Oh hon, I had the mother-in-law from hell. You remember that book about Tiger Mothers ***** that was published a few years back? Cecilia Jimenez is the Tiger Mother of all Tiger Mothers. When Roger got an A, she wanted to know why it wasn't an A+. No matter what he did, it wasn't enough. She pushed him so hard, her fingerprints are permanently embedded in his back. She blamed me for Henry's problems, too. She was very vocal about that.

"She wasn't always like that, apparently. Do you now that Rodger's dad and sister were killed by a drunk driver when he was a boy?" Joss nodded. "The drunk got probation, they didn't take drunk driving seriously back then. Can you imagine getting probation after killing two people? Anyway, Roger said she changed after that, she went off the deep end. They had no insurance, so they lost their middle class life and she had to take jobs cleaning houses to keep them from starving. She was always saying life was hard, so you had to be harder. She's as hard as a diamond now.

"She has a bad heart, and she uses it like a weapon to keep Roger in line. Every time he tries to stand up to her, she starts rubbing her chest and reminding him of her bum heart. Roger would cave every time.

"She kept pushing and pushing. We were supporting her and she was able to retire from cleaning houses. She lost her middle class lifestyle once, I think she was terrified of losing it again. No matter how much we had, it wasn't enough, he wanted MORE to please his unpleasable mommy. He took on too much work, and, even with all our employees, he had to falsify some audits to make the deadlines. It didn't take long before the feds were onto him and he was about to go down for fraud. Roger decided that was not going happen, so he took out a five million dollar insurance policy on himself with Henry as the beneficiary, and set me up to take the fall. I'm pretty sure his mother was in on it, she was the one trash talking me to the press making sure they painted me as some sort of ghetto 'ho during the trial."

A tear made its way down Sh'Linda's cheek. "It worked."

* * *

 **ELEVEN YEARS AGO**

Sh'Linda shuffled into the tiny room, unable to take her usual long strides thanks to the shackles on her ankles. Her lawyer, a tired looking man with skin so pale Sh'Linda wondered if he ever saw the sun, watched dispassionately as she shuffled to the uncomfortable metal chair across the scuffed metal table from where he sat in his own uncomfortable metal chair. He waited wordlessly as the guard withdrew and shut the door. Once they were alone he finally spoke.

"I got them down to second degree manslaughter. You'll do a maximum of 20 years but you can do as little as ten if you keep your nose clean."

Sh'Linda stared at him, shocked. She had hoped for much less. "I didn't kill Roger, how could they do this to me?"

The lawyer sighed. "Linda, we've been through this….'

"Yes, I know," she snapped. "I know all about the evidence. I. Didn't. Do. It. I want a trial, I want to look a jury in the eyes and tell them I didn't kill my husband."

Her lawyer looked at her sadly. He truly believed she was innocent, but with all the years of experience he had under his very expensive belt he knew the odds were stacked against his client. He had to force her to understand just exactly how bad her situation was.

"Linda, you can't go to trial. You will lose and you will spend the rest of your life in prison. They do have enough evidence for a conviction. You're a Black woman, juries are notoriously hard on Black women who kill their partners, especially if those partners are lighter skinned. Your former mother-in-law is out there talking to every news station in town telling them what an awful wife and mother you were and the press is lapping it up like kittens with a saucer of milk. By the time the jury is seated everyone in the city will think you're exactly the type of woman who would kill your husband in a jealous rage."

Sh'Linda's shoulders slumped. She knew what her lawyer was saying was the truth. "What happens if we go to trial and I lose?"

"Second degree murder, fifteen to life."

Sh'Linda swallowed hard. "Life?"

The lawyer looked her straight in the eye. "It's a possibility."

Sh'Linda ran her hands over her face, trying desperately not to cry. She was trapped with no good options, just awful ones and less awful ones. "OK," she choked. "I'll take the deal."

Her lawyer touched her hand. "I'm sorry. For what it's worth, I believe you."

All she could do was nod.

* * *

Joss cocked her head to one side. "Your sister, Shanika, told the police you thought Roger was having an affair?"

Sh'Linda rolled her eyes. "Roger was used to being the center of the world, Cecilia raised him that way. Before Henry was born he was the center of my world too, after Henry, not so much. So he went looking for that woman who would make him the center of her world. What I didn't know was that the person Roger had been stepping out on me with was my own sister. My husband ran off with my sister and my son."

Joss shook her head. "They got the money and the kid and you got ten years in the slammer."

"Yup."

Sh'Linda stared off into space, seemingly thinking about happier times. Joss gave her a few minutes then asked her next question. "How did you find out Roger was alive?"

* * *

 **NINE YEARS AGO**

Sh'Linda had a love-hate relationship with visiting days. It was refreshing to see her boy and her baby sister again, but it was dehumanizing to see them from behind bulletproof glass and talking to them over phone handsets. Still, it was better than nothing and those bi-weekly visits were the only thing keeping her sane. She was only nine months into a sentence that would last at best ten years; she wasn't sure how she was going to make it.

She glanced up at the clock on the wall for probably the hundredth time in the past two hours. Where were they? Shanika had never been the most punctual person, but they were now three hours late. If they didn't get there soon, they would miss visiting hours entirely.

But they didn't show, not that week nor the next. Sh'Linda tried to call, but 'Nika's number was disconnected. Her letters were returned marked "Not at this address."

Sh'Linda was an intelligent woman, you don't get your degree from USC and your CPA by being stupid-she knew what this meant. Her own sister had abandoned her and taken her son with her.

But Sh'Linda was more than just a brain; she had grit and determination on a par with her intelligence. She had gotten herself off the mean streets of Watts and by God she was not going to give up her child without a fight. So, she gotten mad and called her friend Keydra Waters from the old block.

If you looked no further than Keydra's elaborately lacquered nails, brightly colored clothing, and midnight dark skin, you would be making a huge mistake. Underneath her perfect weave, Keys was as street savvy as they came and fiercely loyal to her friends. Sh'Linda maintained her friendship with Keys even when Sh'Linda was in USC and Keys was in jail for a string of petty crimes. Knowing that Keys was more than just another street punk, once Jimenez and Moore started to hit the big time, Sh'Linda gave Keys the money for beauty school and later helped her to open her own shop. Keys never forgot the boost she got from her friend and was at the prison the very next visiting day, listening to Sh'Linda pour her heart out.

Keydra got busy. Since she still lived in the old neighborhood, she had access to Shanika's old posse. Getting Shanika's new number and address was simply a matter of swapping a free weave and manicure for the information from one of Shanika's dimmer friends. Keydra never told her she would have thrown in a pedicure if she had held out a while longer. Sh'Linda had her sister's new number the next visiting day.

"206 area code? Where the heck is that?" Sh'Linda was confused. Nika never wandered far from home and had never expressed any inclination to move.

"Seattle," Keys replied with shrug.

"SEATTLE? What she doing in Seattle?"

"Desiree thought it had to do with a man," Keys replied. "She says Nika was very mysterious about it."

Sh'Linda buried her face in her hands. "My baby sister abandoned me and took my son."

Keys could only watch helplessly through the glass as her friend cried. She reached out and placed her hand against the glass, the only thing she could do to comfort the bereaved mother who'd lost her child not to death, but to betrayal.

The next day, Sh'Linda waited in line at the pay phone. When her turn came, she dialed the number with shaking fingers, resolving to remain calm and listen to her sister's side of the story. After all, she was in no position to chase Nika up the coast, even if Keys swore she would drive to Seattle and steal Henry back if she had to. Sh'Linda was completely unprepared for what came next.

"Hello?" A man's voice answered.

Sh'Linda froze, she knew that voice. She gulped in air, too stunned to speak at first.

"Who is this?" The voice demanded imperiously, a tone she had heard so many times.

"Roger?" She finally managed to gasp out.

"Shit." The line went dead.

Sh'Linda leaned against the wall gasping for air. Rodger was alive, and with Nika in Seattle. She slid down the wall until she was on her knees as the implications became clear. She had begun to suspect that Roger had been having an affair before the trip to Catalina, now she knew with who. Her own fucking sister.

"You OK?"

Sh'Linda looked up to see one of the prison guards standing over her and she realized it must look like she was having a heart attack. "My husband's alive," she said.

The guard rolled his eyes. "Sure, hon. Come on, get up."

"I know his voice!" Sh'Linda insisted.

"Yeah, yeah, people think I'm my uncle on the phone all the time. On your feet."

Sh'Linda got to her feet slowly, as her mind spun. She wobbled to the back of the line, she had to call Keys.

* * *

"So they ran again," Joss stated.

Sh'Linda took a sip of her coffee. "Keys got someone to watch the shop for her and she was in Seattle just a couple of days later, but Nika and Rodger were already gone.

"They did it right the second time, no one knew where they had gone or how to reach them. Keys did her best, but none of Shanika's friends knew where to find her."

"Why didn't you tell someone that Rodger was alive?" Joss asked.

Sh'linda snorted. "Girl, I tried, but no one would believe me, not even that punk ass attorney of mine. I was out of money to pay him so I was dead to that white boy." Sh'Linda took a sip of her coffee, then she resumed her story.

"I couldn't do much until I was paroled. I became a model prisoner, I kept my nose clean and bowed and scraped to the damn parole board when I came up for review. Got out on the first try.

"Keys came through for me again. She had sworn she was going to repay me for her schooling and the salon, and she did. She'd been putting money aside the entire time I was locked up and when I was out she gave me several thousand dollars, a job, and a place to stay."

Joss smiled and nodded. "It pays to have friends and it pays to be good to those friends. How did you find Roger in New York?"

Sh'Linda looked smug. "His mommy. I knew he would never be able to cut those apron strings, so I traced her instead of him. She didn't bother to cover her tracks, guess she figured she wasn't supposed to be dead so there was no need. She had followed him to Seattle, then to Chicago, and then here."

Joss sipped her coffee. "Do you know where your sister is now? She doesn't appear to be with Roger anymore. John's partner had him under surveillance all night and no one was with him."

"Nika's dead," Sh'Linda whispered. "Rodger killed her about seven years ago."

Joss stared at the parolee. The pieces of this case where coming together in the worst way possible. "When did you find that?"

Sh'Linda sighed and rubbed her temple like she had a headache. "Not too long after I got paroled. After I traced my ex-mother-in-law out here, I found the death notice." Sh'linda choked back a small sob and looked away. "The cops thought it was a drug sale gone wrong. They found her in an alley in the wrong part of town with some drugs in her system and a needle in her arm. Problem is, Nika was scared shitless of needles. One time, a couple of years before Henry was born, I had to take her to the hospital for some sort of infection and you should have seen her get whiter than your bae when she saw the big IV needle they wanted to stick her with. She vomited and passed out as soon as she saw it. I know she was murdered, she couldn't have taken drugs with a needle."

Sh'Linda paused and stared off into space for few minutes before she resumed her story. "The autopsy report said there were no needle marks on her arms besides the fatal overdose, but all the cops saw was a dead black woman, so they immediately assumed she was a junkie. Investigation never went any further than that."

Joss tilted her head to one side. "You're upset? Shanika helped frame you and ran off with your not-so-dead husband."

Sh'Linda nodded, her eyes sad. "I know. Nika stabbed me in the back about as hard as anyone can, but she was my baby sister. I got back to my Christian roots in the slammer, I can forgive, but I'll never even have that chance now. I don't know why that son of a bitch killed her, knowing Shanika she did everything he asked her to and built her life around him. Since she was named Henry's guardian, I'm guessing he was only using her to get his hands on our son and the life insurance money without anyone getting suspicious. She must have gotten inconvenient for some reason, so he killed her."

Joss put her hand over Sh'Linda's as the tears fell. After a few moments she asked quietly, "What do you want? Why did you break your parole and come all the way to New York?"

"I want my son," Sh'Linda responded fiercely, as she swiped at the tears. "It's been over ten years since I've seen my child and I haven't thought of much else."

"You don't want revenge?" Joss asked carefully.

Sh'Linda shook her head. "I won't lie, Joss. There was a time when all I fantasized about was putting a bullet in Rodger's head. Shanika's too. But then I found out that my sister was dead, probably murdered, and it took that fight out me." Sh'Linda looked down at her coffee cup for a few minutes, then looked up at Joss again. "I've lost so much time with my son. Hell, I'm not even sure if my boy would want to be a part of my life now. Lord only knows what Roger and his mother have been telling him about me. Knowing my former mother-in-law, he probably thinks I eat babies for breakfast, puppies for lunch, and kittens for dinner."

Joss smiled. "He probably thinks you're dead. You're listed as deceased on his school records."

Sh'Linda stared wide eyed at Joss. Her mouth moved but nothing came out. However, no words were needed. As a mother herself, Joss knew exactly what was going through her companion's head.

"Yes, we found your baby. Your ex sent him to the Bradley School in Connecticut. It's an exclusive boarding school, well known. Henry is getting the best education money can buy." Joss took another sip. "He's doing very well academically and seems to be well-liked, from the comments his teachers have left on his record."

Sh'Linda swallowed a few times and finally found her voice. "When do I get to see him?" she asked in quavering voice.

"Only a few more days. We need to find out who's trying to kill you first, and nail Roger for Shanika's murder, then you and Henry can start your new lives.

Sh'Linda put her hands over her mouth and squeezed her eyes shut. "I've waited so long, I guess a few more days won't kill me," she whispered.

"We will get you back with your son, I promise," Joss said.

They were interrupted as Finch entered the safe house, preceded as usual by Bear, who hopped on the love seat turned around three times and lay down, stretching out so he took up the entire thing.

Joss looked at him in surprise. "What are you doing here, Harold?"

Finch set his laptop on the table. "In order for Ms. Moore to get her life back, we need to start building the case that she was wrongfully convicted. One of things we need to do is trace Mr. Jimenez's movements so we can prove the man Ms. Moore confronted yesterday is indeed her husband. I'll need her help since she has already done most of the work."

Joss stood up. "Then I'll let you do your thing. I'm going to the precinct to get Shanika's case reopened."

* * *

 ***Sh'Linda is referring to the book The Battle Hymn of the Tiger Mother by Amy Chua. A Tiger Mother is defined in Wikipedia as "...a term which refers to a strict or demanding mother who pushes her children to be successful academically by attaining high levels of scholastic and academic achievement, using methods regarded as typical of childrearing in East Asia, South Asia and Southeast Asia to the detriment of the child's social, physical, psychological and emotional well-being." Tiger Mothers are mostly thought of as Chinese, but I've found them in just about every culture.**


	5. Chapter 5

**Before we begin I want to acknowledge all of you who have left a review so far! Thank you so much, those reviews motivate us writers to keep on writing. I have hopefully responded to all the reviewers who have logins, I do want to let the Guest reviewers know I appreciate them too!**

* * *

 **Investigation**

Joss texted Fusco Shanika Moore's name and asked him to pull the case file before she left the safe house. By the time she got the precinct, he had the file up on his computer and was reading it over.

"Do you ever get the feeling that we're the only detectives on the force who ever actually _investigate_ cases anymore?" He growled as she stowed her purse in her desk drawer and locked it.

Joss dragged her desk chair over to his desk so she could read his screen, too. "You reading that case file?"

Fusco made a rude noise. "No, I'm watching Japanese tentacle porn."

"Bad visual Fusco," Joss chided.

"Sorry, this shit's got me in a bad mood. Even during my worst HR days, I never produced work this sloppy." He scrolled up to the coroner's report. "Look at this," he jabbed a finger at the screen. "No needle marks except for the one from the fatal overdose. Adhesive on her wrists indicating she may have been restrained using duct tape. Bruise on her cheek and defensive wounds on her arms from a possible struggle. Yet, the case was closed as an accidental overdose. Bear's a better investigator."

Joss snorted in contempt. "Well, he does have a really good nose. Who did the original investigation?"

"That Patterson puke from the 23rd. He's doing ten to fifteen for his part in HR."

Joss snickered. She remembered Patterson; John had put a bullet in his knee during that long night bringing Alonzo Quinn to justice. "At least it'll be easy to get the case reopened."

"You ain't kiddin'," Fusco agreed. "Moreno will take one look at this steaming pile of HR dung and reopen the case so fast it'll cause hurricane force winds."

Joss laughed. "You know I love you, right?"

Fusco grinned. "Of course you do, all the women do. I'm a stud!"

Joss stood up with a huge smile on her face. "Come on stud, let's get this case reopened."

Fusco followed her into the captain's office. "I love the smell of justice in the morning. Smells like last week's coffee."

* * *

Reese strode into the library. "What do you have Finch?"

Finch turned in his chair and, without a word, tossed a flash drive to his employee who deftly caught it in mid-air.

"Sh'Linda Moore is a clever woman. Thanks to her I was able to trace Roger Jimenez's movements from San Diego, to Seattle, to Chicago, to New York. Ihe documentation on that flash drive will help Detectives Carter and Fusco on the official investigation. I believe we have enough documentation to prove to the authorities in California that Roger Jimenez is alive and well in New York City."

John tucked the flash drive into his pocket to give to Joss later. "Good job, Finch. Any progress on who might be trying to kill Sh'Linda?"

Finch pursed his lips in a sign that was well known to John. "All I can say at this point is that it definitely wasn't her ex at the wheel of the car or who planted the incendiary device in her house. According to the security cameras in his office building, he was in his office all day. Either Mr. Jimenez hired someone to do away with Ms. Moore or we have another player in the game.

"I'm trying to trace the movements of the car that was used in the attempt on her life. I may be able to get a picture of the driver's face from a traffic camera."

"Good, I'm going to pay Jimenez's condo a visit. Feel up to neutralizing an alarm system?"

Finch cracked his knuckles with a sly smile. "Always, Mr. Reese."

John left the library heading for Jimenez's condo building several blocks away. He was about halfway there when he got another call from Taylor.

"Hey T."

"She said yes! Now what do I do?" The teen sounded a bit panicky.

"You take her out," John deadpanned.

"You should have been a comedian," Taylor growled.

John grinned. "Did you agree on a place and time?"

"Yeah, Thursday after school we're going for coffee."

John nodded his approval even though Taylor couldn't see him. "That's a good start. I'll give you some money so you can pay. You asked her so going Dutch is out."

"I hear ya, girls don't like cheapsters."

"Be sure to ask her about herself. Does she like sports? What bands does she like? Listen to her when she talks, don't zone out."

"Got it, anything else?"

"Be yourself, be humble."

"No braggasaurus, check."

"You should be good to go then. Good luck."

"Thanks, John. Later."

"Bye T"

John grinned the rest of the way to the condo.

* * *

Only few hours later, Carter and Fusco were sitting across the desk from Roger Jimenez, who was now using the name Roger Zamora.

"I really don't understand, detectives," Jimenez/Zamora was saying. "Shanika has been dead for years now. Why reopen the case? She died of an overdose, case closed."

Joss gave him her best _I am so nailing your ass, you murdering bastard_ smile. "With the arrest of the corrupt band of cops known as HR, we've been taking a look at some old cases they handled and Shanika's case had numerous irregularities."

"Irregularities?" Jimenez's eyebrows shot up to his hairline. "The other detective never said anything about 'irregularities'."

"The other detective is now using Attica* as his primary address," Fusco grunted.

Jimenez shifted in his seat, looking distinctly uncomfortable. "I see your point," he conceded, though his tone of voice made it clear he didn't want to see it.

"Shanika's death has been reclassified as a homicide," Joss stated flatly, letting the unspoken implications hang in the air between them.

"Murder?" Jimenez squeaked. "But she overdosed, they found a needle and drugs in her system."

"Yeah, they did, but Shanika was no junkie," Fusco replied evenly. "She didn't have needle marks on her except the one from the fatal overdose. Her body showed zero sign of prior drug use." He paused and stared Jimenez straight in the eye. "You were her fiancée, you lived with her. Didn't you think it was weird that someone who never used before would suddenly kick off like that?"

Joss smirked in satisfaction when she saw the sweat break out on Jimenez's forehead. He was rattled.

"Um, well, I just trusted what the 'corrupt' policeman said…," his voice trailed off as he realized his small jibe didn't hit home as the two detectives simply sat quietly and waited for him to continue. He squirmed a bit. "I was just so upset, you see, and I wasn't thinking clearly," he continued lamely.

Joss flipped through the file sitting on her lap. "You were thinking clearly enough to file a claim on her life insurance the very next day."

"My mother helped me with that…"

"Yeah, about that," Fusco piped in, "what did you do with all that money? Coroner's office records indicate the body was never claimed and she was buried in a pauper's grave on Hart Island**. You couldn't cough up a couple K of that to give your fiancée a decent burial?"

Jimenez was covered in a fine sheen of sweat now. "I don't think I have to justify my financial decisions to you!" He snarled.

Joss and Fusco, in unison, looked around the well-appointed office with its plush carpeting and original works of art on the wall. Their eyes then settled back on Jimenez both their faces clearly saying _Oh yes you do, asshole._

"I remind you that this is a murder investigation, Mr. Zamora," Joss said her best business-like tone. "We will be scrutinizing _everything_ about your life with Shanika."

Jimenez slumped in his seat, looking like a rat in a trap. "Then I have nothing more to say to you until I retain a lawyer."

Fusco shrugged. "Suit yourself. We were hoping we'd do this the easy way, but this isn't our first time at the dance. We do this for a livin' and you don't, just sayin'."

Jimenez looked sick.

The detectives got up and let themselves out without another word.

As they walked out of the building, Joss tapped her earpiece. "We softened him up for you Sam. He's all yours. Let's see what shakes out."

"Thanks Carter. You shook him up good; he's pacing the office like a caged tiger on meth," Sam replied cheerfully from her perch on the roof of the building across the street. "I'll call you if anything happens."

* * *

"Security system has been disabled, Mr. Reese. You may proceed," Finch said.

John picked the lock with his usual speed and efficiency and was inside Roger Jimenez's condo within seconds.

He looked around the condo, it was a pretty good size for New York. Between his CPA business and the insurance payouts from his fake death and Shanika's very real one, Roger was doing very well. John noticed several pictures of a young boy, likely Henry, scattered throughout the place, along with pictures of an older woman who had a strong family resemblance to Roger, probably his mother Cecilia. John found it odd there were so many pictures of Cecilia Jimenez, there were as many of her as there were of Henry.

John booted up the laptop sitting on the desk and plugged in one of Finch's special flash drives that immediately started downloading information and sending it to the computer billionaire back in HQ. While Finch's program was rifling through the computer, John was rifling through Jimenez's desk. He found nothing other than a box of pictures, mostly of Henry, in the bottom drawer. As he examined them he noticed several had been carefully cropped, as if Jimenez was trying to cut someone out. John guessed he'd removed all traces of Sh'Linda and Shanika. John selected several of them showing Henry at various ages to give to Sh'Linda and stuck them in his pocket.

Next he turned his attention to the master bedroom where he found a safe with an electronic lock behind the mirror in the small ensuite bathroom.

With a small smile, he tapped his earpiece. "Hey Finch, are your hacking skills up to cracking a SecurityMax 4500?"

Finch sighed a put-upon sigh. "Really, Mr. Reese, there's no need to be insulting. Please, hold your phone up to the lock."

John smirked and did as he was told. After a series of tones and beeps, the safe door popped opened. John swiftly rifled through the contents.

"There's a lot of cash here, and several IDs and credit cards with different names. Jimenez may be preparing to run again."

Back in the library, Finch got a smug smile on his face. "He can try, but Miss Shaw has eyes on him."

* * *

 ***Attica Correctional Facility is a maximum security/supermax prison located in the town of Attica, New York.**

 ****Hart Island is a small island at the western end of Long Island Sound. This is where New York buries it's unclaimed/unidentified bodies.**


	6. Chapter 6

**SMUT WARNING! Notice the rating has been changed. Time for Careese lovin'!**

* * *

 ****

 **Decisions**

Shaw followed Roger Jimenez down the street, hating the man in front of her more and more with every passing minute. As Fusco was fond of reminding her, she hated everyone, but Jimenez was rapidly moving the bar to a whole new level of hate unique to him.

During the day, Shaw had been able to observe how he had interacted with several other people, mostly service people, and he had universally treated them all with the same amount of disdain. Considering he was a con man and murderer, Shaw found his arrogance even harder to stomach than, say Logan Pierce's. At least Pierce could back it up with his accomplishments in computer science and business, Jimenez was nowhere near that level of accomplished. Shaw wondered what Sh'Linda ever saw in the man.

Jimenez was forced to wait at a red light to cross the street and Shaw was able to blue jack his phone.

Jimenez entered a restaurant and took a seat in a booth. Shaw seated herself at the counter where she had a good view of him and ordered a large plate of calamari and a coke. Jimenez was soon joined by an older female version of himself with the harshest face Shaw had ever seen. Obviously Sh'Linda was correct about her husband being unable to cut the apron strings from his mother. Shaw pulled out her phone so she could listen in on their conversation.

"What's wrong?" Cecilia Jimenez demanded coldly as soon as she sat down. "You said it was urgent."

"Hi, mom. How are you?" her son sniped back.

Shaw had to grin; this could get as good as an episode of _Empire_.

Mother Jimenez eyed her son with a face that was even harsher than when she had sat down. "Don't get snippy with me."

Her son sighed and ran a hand over his face. "Linda's out of prison and here in New York. She came to my office yesterday and made a scene outside the building. She wants to see Henry."

"I told you you should have killed her when you had the chance," Cecilia snapped.

"Ma, I couldn't kill Henry's _mother_!" Jimenez was whining now.

"No, but you framed her for murder, sent her to prison, and hid her son on the other side of the country and that was perfectly OK," his mother sneered.

"It gets worse. The police came to my office today, Shanika's death has been reclassified a homicide."

Cecilia sniffed and sipped her tea. "It's a cold case. There's nothing there."

"Maybe, maybe not, but we should start getting ready to move. I already have new identities for us and Henry…"

His mother put her iced tea down and glared at him. "So I have to relocate again because of your ghetto taste in women?"

"You don't have to relocate at all, Ma," Roger hissed between clenched teeth. "You're welcome to stay here."

"Don't you dare talk to me like that, I gave up everything for you! I left my home and my friends. I lied to the police, I committed perjury at the trial. I put up with your whores." Cecilia face contorted into the ugliest scowl Shaw had seen in a long time. Now she knew where all those harsh lines on her face came from. "I'm too old for this! You know I have a bad heart!" She rubbed her chest for emphasis.

Shaw snorted as she watched Jimenez close his eyes and sigh. Cecilia Jimenez had a black belt in guilt and was wielding with all the finesse of a rampaging elephant, but it was working. Roger was every bit the Mama's Boy Sh'Linda had said he was.

"Mom, I wouldn't if I didn't think it was necessary," Roger sighed.

Cecilia reached across the table and took her son's hand. "You know I'm on your side Roger," she said tenderly. "I'm the only one who is."

"I know Ma."

* * *

It was a somber team that met over dinner at the safe house to discuss their options. Sh'Linda had insisted in preparing a large, tasty ham she had found in the refrigerator as a thank you to everyone for "Being the only the people to believe in me in ten years." While her skills in the kitchen were a bit rusty from her incarnation, she still turned out a delicious home cooked meal. Shaw, of course, was the most appreciative, joyfully snarfing down huge chunks of meat and a more than generous helping of potato salad before anyone else was even halfway done.

Fusco eyed Shaw as she shoved another large chunk into her face and chewed with her mouth open. "I thought you only ate red meat."

Shaw looked over at him, her cheeks bulging with her meal like a squirrel's. "Ham's pink, pink's just light red. 'Sides, this is good stuff."

Sh'Linda beamed with pleasure at the praise. She had correctly surmised that the ever hungry ex-op didn't pass out compliments often.

"Mr. Reese, how long do you think we have before Jimenez runs?" Finch asked. "According to the information we downloaded from his computer, he's been moving considerable sums of money offshore to Cayman Island accounts."

Reese leaned back in his chair. "Based on what I saw in his safe and what Shaw overheard, I would say only a few days. He has plenty of cash and the IDs. You've already traced most of his money to offshore accounts. He needs to get out of town before Joss and Fusco finish their investigation into Shanika's death, and he has no idea how long that will take."

Fusco snorted. "Well, it's going take a while. We printed the syringe that was found in Shanika's arm, the figure prints don't match Roger's or Shanika's. That don't mean Roger didn't hire someone to do it, but we aren't in a position to arrest him, _yet_."

Sh'Linda pushed the food around on her plate. "But, he was so callous after Shanika died," she said quietly, her voice heavy with distress. "He let them bury her in a pauper's grave." She looked like she could burst into tears at any moment.

Joss set her own fork down and took Sh'Linda's hand. "I know, honey. But being a douche-bag isn't illegal. But we will nail Roger, I promise."

"Right now, the immediate question is how do we keep him from running?" Finch said. "If he leaves New York and the jurisdiction of the detectives, it will be harder for us to make him pay for his crimes."

"There is a way, but it will be dangerous," John looking at Sh'Linda.

"You want Sh'Linda to go ahead with her meeting with Roger," Joss stated flatly.

"He won't want to leave any loose ends behind. She was able to trace him all the way across the country, he has to know that she won't stop following him." John looked at Sh'Linda and gently touched her arm. "The decision is up to you. Even if Roger runs, we will still pursue him, but we won't have the advantage of using Joss and Lionel in their official capacities."

Sh'Linda looked up from her plate and met John's eyes, her own eyes blazing with determination. "I'll do it."

"It's not safe," Joss said.

"I know," Sh'Linda replied. "But I haven't been safe in over ten years since this nightmare began. It cost me my freedom, my sister, and ten years with my son. I'm ready for it to be over. Whatever comes, I'm done with this."

The whole team nodded in agreement. Sh'Linda deserved the chance to finally be free.

* * *

Later that night, John watched as Joss slept next to him. He pushed back a hair that had escaped the silk scarf she tied over her hair at night and was tickling her nose as he contemplated what had driven Roger Jimenez to destroy his life with his wife and child. Roger had had it all, a loving wife, a baby, a lucrative career, yet he tossed it all away lusting after a few extra bucks. John had confronted all sorts of evil in his travels as a CIA agent and, while he developed a pretty good understanding of what drove evil people, he never understood how anyone who had the family that John had craved his entire life could toss it aside with barely a second thought.

"You're brooding again," Joss murmured and opened one eye.

John smiled and tenderly stroked her face. "I was just wondering how Jimenez could destroy his family when he already had plenty of money. Why weren't they enough?"

Joss raised herself to her elbow and held John's hand as he cupped her face. "Not everyone values family the way you do, John. Jimenez had no idea how precious what he had was. According to Sh'Linda, his mom groomed him to WIN. She pushed him and nurtured his ambition.

"Sh'Linda was once as driven and as ambitious as he was, but once she had Henry, she changed her priorities. He couldn't make that shift. He couldn't stop 'winning' any more than you could stop protecting people."

John lay on his back staring up at the ceiling for several minutes until he finally spoke. "I could."

"Could what?"

"Stop protecting people. I'd do it for you and Taylor."

"John!" Joss gasped, her eyes wide.

John turned on his side so he was facing her again. Even though the only light in the bedroom was from the moon shining in through the window, Joss could see John's face was dead serious. "If I ever have to choose, you and T come first."

Joss gently rested hand on his chest. "I would _never_ ask you to choose…"

John laid a finger on her lips to quiet her. "I know. But if there is ever a time when I do have to make that choice, you _will_ win."

Joss was touched by how John trusted in her to not force him into a choice, and by his devotion for her and her son to make the choice if needed. "Oh John," was all she could say.

John pulled her to him and pressed a gentle kiss to her lips. Joss responded by putting a hand behind his head and pulling him in for a deeper, more passionate kiss. Her tongue lovingly caressed his until they finally broke apart.

"Detective," John purred, "anymore of that and you won't be getting much sleep tonight."

"There's always coffee, John," Joss purred back with a naughty smile as she ran her hands under his shirt. Within seconds John was bare chested, just the way Joss liked him. She began biting and kissing her way across his collarbone with gusto.

John relaxed and let her take control, for now. He found it arousing when she took charge. He had often wondered how her colleagues at the 8th would feel if they knew that their normally straight-laced Detective Carter could be so enthusiastic between the sheets.

John arched his back and hissed as Joss lightly ran her hands down his stomach to the waistband of his pajama bottoms. "You're overdressed, John," she murmured, her voice deep and throaty. John could only groan as she relieved him of his pants, setting his already hard cock free. Joss ran a finger gently along the underside from base to tip and John's eyes rolled back in his head. She giggled, loving that the legendary Man in the Suit was putty in her hands. Gently, she stroked him until he pulled her hand away. "Not yet," he whispered to her.

He pushed her over onto her back and slowly began unbuttoning her pajama top, kissing each new inch of mahogany skin as it was revealed. Joss squirmed under his gentle touch and raked her fingers through his hair. He smiled against her stomach as she lost herself in the moment. His hands roamed her body, touching her everywhere. John knew where every erogenous zone on her body was and he touched, bit, or stroked every single one. She was completely lost in him.

John turned Joss on her side, lifted her top leg and positioned himself so that he straddled her bottom leg. He guided himself to her opening and with one thrust he was deep inside of her. He rested the calf of her upper leg on his shoulder while he flicked her clit with one hand and gripped her waist with the other. In this position he could hit all her pleasure zones while maintaining a steady, even pace. Joss was gasping incoherently with pleasure as he slid in and out, never rushing. Her hands clawed at the sheets as he felt her tightening around him. She was gripping him so tightly he could barely keep moving.

John watched as her face twisted with ecstasy. Joss came with a shudder that tore through her entire body. John finally released his iron control to follow her over the abyss scant seconds later. With a throaty groan he pulled out and flopped down on the bed facing her.

"That was amazing," Joss giggled. Her large brown eyes shone with love and John found himself smitten with her all over again. That happened a lot, like every time he looked at her. He hoped she could see his love for her in his own eyes, and by the way she touched his face, he was sure she did.

"Go to sleep Detective, we have a busy day tomorrow," John said, tenderly.

Joss yawned. "No problem, you wore me out!" She snuggled up to his warm body and was asleep within a couple of minutes.

John lay next to his dream woman, the one who made him whole, and the one who accepted him completely. No, he would never understand Jimenez and other men like him who would let this feeling go. He decided that he didn't even want to try.

* * *

 **We are winding down. One more chapter to go!**


	7. Chapter 7

**Here it is, the last chapter. Thanks to all the lovely readers who followed me on this journey, with a special shout-out to all of you have left me reviews. Once again I am reminded how uniquely supportive the Careese community is.**

* * *

 **Confrontation and Reunion**

The next day John and Sh'Linda entered Roger's office building while Shaw and the Barrett sniper rifle took a position on the roof next door with a good view through the office windows. The team hoped that John's imposing presence would be enough to intimidate Roger into behaving, but if they were wrong, Shaw and the Barrett would be the back-up. In addition, Joss and Fusco "just happened" to be loitering at a coffee shop just around the corner in case an official presence became necessary.

It was Saturday evening and the building where Roger had his office was eerily quiet. There was something oppressive about the silence. The hairs on the back of John's neck stood up and his CIA-trained senses were on high alert. He couldn't put his finger on it. but something felt very wrong.

He laid a hand on Sh'Linda's arm. "I think we should leave," he said, his eyes darting about, looking for the source of his foreboding feelings. "Something doesn't feel right."

Sh'Linda shook her head. "John, I've come too far, I can't just turn around and leave now. Please, don't make me stop now." She looked up at him, her large, dark eyes pleading with him.

John looked down into her pleading eyes and nodded. He understood her need to finish her ordeal after ten long and lonely years. After everything she had been through, she deserved it and he would do what he could to help her.

They climbed the stairs to the second floor and entered the tiny waiting area for the accounting office. They pressed the buzzer to enter the inner office and Roger immediately opened the door to usher them in.

"Who's this?" Roger jerked his thumb in Reese's direction.

Reese smirked at Roger. "A concerned third party."

"He's a friend. Where's my son?" Sh'Linda snapped.

"I thought we would talk before we involved Henry," Jimenez said calmly, while staring at Reese. The operative's presence clearly had thrown him for a loop.

"Rog, I don't want to talk, I don't want revenge, I just want to see my son." Sh'Linda sounded weary.

Roger finally pulled his eyes from Reese. "We really should talk before you see Henry…"

Sh'Linda interrupted, angry now. "Talk? What's there to talk about? You fucked my sister, framed me for murder, stole my son, then killed my sister. Done talking now, where's my boy?"

Jimenez stared angrily at Sh'Linda. "I didn't kill Shanika! I loved her!"

Sh'Linda snorted in contempt. "Yeah, right Rog. Who else would want her dead?"

Sh'Linda's question triggered something in Reese's mind and in one sickening instant everything became crystal clear. In a flash of insight, he put all the pieces together and he knew what the team had been missing all along.

"He's telling the truth," John said softly to Sh'Linda. She looked at him in confusion. "We were so focused on Roger we forgot there was another person who had been in on the plan from the beginning."

Another door opened and Cecilia Jimenez stepped through holding a gun. "Very smart Mr. Concerned Third Party, but too late."

"I should have known," Sh'Linda glared at her former mother-in-law with a look at that could kill.

Cecilia glared right back. "I won't let you take my son from me!" she hissed.

"Bitch, you took my son _and_ my sister from me!" Sh'Linda snarled back. "I don't want to hurt Roger or take your precious son from you, you crazy old bat. All I want is MY son."

"See, Mom, there's no reason to kill again! We can work this out!" Roger pleaded.

Cecilia laughed. "I don't believe her." Then she glanced at her son with a tender expression on her face. "We've come too far, done too much, to stop now. I won't let this bitch destroy your life. Our lives."

During those crucial few minutes Roger spent pleading with his mother, John's mind went into overdrive. He calculated the angle from Cecilia to the window and concluded that Shaw did not have a clean shot at her. He could hear Shaw calling for Joss and Lionel over his earpiece, but they wouldn't be there in time. That left him on his own as he used all his training and experience to consider his options. He knew Cecilia would shoot as soon as he acted, so he had to choose his first move carefully; she was too far away from him for him to grab and disarm her before she pulled the trigger. If he reached for the gun that was tucked in his waistband snuggled against the small of his back, Cecilia might have time to get a shot off at Sh'Linda before he could draw his weapon.

Making his decision, John moved swiftly. He grabbed Roger and threw him in front of Sh'Linda as a human shield just as Cecilia pulled the trigger.

Roger slumped to the floor, a red stain spreading over his chest and a surprised look on his face. Reese's gun was in his hand and aimed at Cecilia, but it was no longer needed. With a piercing wail of grief, Cecilia dropped her weapon and threw herself at her dying son. Screaming in anguish, she held his head to her breast, rocking back and forth as Roger breathed his last.

John tapped his earpiece. "Joss, Fusco, we need you here. Shaw stand down, it's over."

"We're almost there!" Joss replied.

John looked over to see Sh'Linda slumped against Roger's massive oak desk with her face in her hands. He knelt down next to her and gently placed a hand on her shoulder. "Are you alright?" he asked.

Sh'Linda looked up and nodded. "I will be, someday, I guess. I just never thought it would end like this. I didn't _want_ it to end like this."

"I'm sorry, I had no choice," John said hoping that Sh'Linda would understand.

Sh'Linda shook her head. "I wasn't your fault. It was Cecilia. It was always Cecilia." She gazed at her mother in law as she cradled the body of her son and cried out her grief. "I just wanted to see my son. None of this had to happen if Roger had just been happy when we had it all."

"Never take what you have for granted," John replied, thinking of Joss and Taylor.

"I never will again," Sh'Linda sighed sadly, as Joss and Fuso burst through the door.

* * *

The next day was sunny and bright as a car carrying Joss and Sh'Linda left the city and turned towards the Bradley School in Connecticut.

Sh'Linda shifted nervously in her seat. And then sighed deeply. "Look at me. All I've thought about for the last ten years is seeing my boy. Now I'm finally going to see him and I'm a wreck."

"That's only natural," Joss said, as she negotiated a turn.

"What if he hates me?" Sh'Linda said. "Lord only knows what his Grammy said about me."

"Girl, relax," Joss chided gently. "You read the records Finch downloaded for you. You know the school counselor considered Cecilia a 'toxic presence' in your son's life and she was barred from visiting. I doubt he took anything she said seriously."

Sh'Linda nodded, but couldn't stop fidgeting until the car pulled up to the school.

They climbed out of the car and walked up the front door. Sh'Linda placed her hand the door handle, paused, took a deep breath, then wrenched the door open. She marched down the hall to the office like a woman on a mission. Joss followed her with a smile.

They entered the office to be greeted by the headmaster and the counselor. The headmaster was a man of average height, olive skin, and a ready smile, who introduced himself as Mr. Spano. Ms. Daalman, the counselor, was a slight blonde woman with a motherly air about her. Both of them were as warm and welcoming as they could be under the unusual circumstances.

Joss had already called ahead after she had finished booking Cecilia the previous day, so they were fully aware of Sh'Linda's story. Ms. Daalman explained that she had taken the time to carefully prepare Henry as best as she could for the loss of his father and the reentry of his mother into his life.

Ms. Daalman escorted Joss and Sh'Linda to her office while Spano went to fetch Henry. The counselor's office was fairly large with a desk in one corner and a conversation area consisting of several comfortable chairs and an overstuffed sofa. Joss and Sh'Linda took seats on the sofa while Ms. Daalman took a seat in one the chairs.

After a few tense minutes, the door opened to admit Henry and Spano. Henry froze, staring at Sh'Linda with wide brown eyes that were exactly the same as Sh'Linda's own. Joss held her breath as she watched mother and son look at each other for the first time in ten years.

Sh'Linda stood up. "Hello, Henry, I'm your mother."

Without a word, Henry threw himself across the room and into Sh'Linda's arms. It took everything Joss had to not jump up and down and cheer. Instead, she gently herded the counselor and the headmaster out of the room to give mother and son their privacy.

* * *

Two days later, Marty Feldberg was in his small office typing up a report when there was a tap on his door. He looked up to see Joss standing in the doorway with a smile on her face. Marty answered her smile with one of his own. "Come in, come in! I've been thinking about you."

Joss stepped into the office and for the first time Marty saw another woman behind her. His grin got wider and he stood up and held out his hand to the woman. "I take it this is the vic from the Bronx fire?"

"Marty Feldberg, Sh'Linda Moore," Joss introduced the arson investigator to the unjustly accused woman. Joss shut the door and the women seated themselves across the desk from Marty.

"So, Joss, do you have a story for me?" Marty looked so eager Joss almost laughed.

"The story is Sh'Linda's. I'll let her tell it." Joss leaned back in her chair and relaxed while Sh'Linda told Marty her tale from the beginning.

It turned out to be one of the best stories Marty had ever heard.

* * *

Thursday morning. John slipped an envelope containing two twenty dollar bills and a note that said, "Good Luck" under Taylor's bedroom door.

* * *

Sh'Linda stood on the tarmac watching intently as the crate containing Shanika's casket was loaded into the belly of the airplane. Her arm was wrapped around Henry's shoulder as his head leaned against her side. Since they had been reunited, they had been inseparable.

Joss, John, and Finch walked up and stood next to them as the forklift operator carefully slid the crate into the cargo hold. Sh'Linda didn't move or acknowledge their presence until the cargo door was shut and secured. Then she ruffled Henry's hair. "Why don't you wait on the plane for me, honey? I need to talk to these people for a minute. I'll bet if you ask nicely, the steward will give you a soda."

"OK." Henry gave his mother a hug and scurried up the steps into the plane. Just before he vanished into the aircraft, he paused, grinned, and waved. Then he ducked inside.

"Looks like he missed you every bit as much as you missed him," Joss remarked, with small smile.

"Yeah," Sh'Linda smiled back. "I'll never get those years in prison back, but we're solid. Henry misses his dad, but he's glad to be free of his grandmother. She controlled him and his father, not in a good way.

"Speaking of the Hispanic Maleficent, how is my monster-in-law handling jail?"

Joss shook her head, "She's been under suicide watch since we booked her. Losing Roger has destroyed her. Framing you, killing Shanika, all attempts on your life, all for nothing."

Sh'Linda looked grim. "I'm not surprised. She won't survive the year. She'll die of a broken heart."

"Oh, her heart is fine," Joss replied. "The doctors at Riker's ran some tests when she complained about her 'bad heart' and they discovered she's as healthy as you or I, and probably healthier than Fusco."

Sh'Linda couldn't help but laugh. "She's been faking that bad heart for decades now. Too bad Roger isn't around to hear the truth."

"That reminds me," Finch broke in. "You are technically Roger's next of kin since you never divorced. What would you like done with his body? I can arrange for a modest burial if you like, or we can let the city of New York bury him on Hart Island like Shanika."

Sh'Linda stared off into the distance for a few minutes and finally she shook her head. "I hate to ask you to do anything else for us, Mr. Finch, you've done so much for us already." With a wave of her hand she indicated the plane. "Thanks to you I can bury my sister next to my mama. But if you don't mind, I would prefer to give Roger a decent burial. I know he wouldn't do the same for me, but I need forgive and move on." Tears pooled in her eyes. "There's been so much bitterness, so much wasted time…" her voice trailed off, unable to find the words to describe how she was feeling.

But she didn't need to. "I understand. I'll see to it," Finch nodded. Joss could tell he approved.

"Thank you."

"What are your plans?" John asked. "Are you going home?"

Sh'Linda shrugged. "First give Shanika a Christian burial in LA next to our mama. Then clear my name. Mr. Finch has retained some pretty sick lawyers who are working to get me declared innocent and my conviction vacated. That will probably take a few months. Once my record is cleared, I can get my CPA certification back, then who knows?" She paused. "Thanks to you I have a lot of possibilities open to me."

They were approached by a uniformed steward. "Ms. Moore? The pilot says to tell you that we're ready to leave."

Finch smiled at her. "Your future awaits, Ms. Moore."

"Make it a good one," Joss said.

Sh'Linda embraced each one of them with tearful "Thank yous." Then she turned to the steward. "Let's go."

The Team watched as Sh'Linda followed the steward up the steps and into the plane. The door was shut and locked, while the stairs were moved back. The engines roared to life and the plane smoothly taxied away.

"A most satisfying conclusion," Finch remarked, as the plane turned towards the runway.

John's phone buzzed. He looked down at it to see the text message, _Score! She's a Knicks fan!_ With a smirk he said, "Yes it was."

The three climbed into the big Lincoln waiting patiently for them a few yards away. The car exited the airport and vanished into city traffic.

 **The End (for now)**

* * *

 **There you go, I hope you enjoyed it and you found the resolution satisfying. I have more stories in the hopper, the next one is a Wolf fic. I'll be back soon!**


End file.
